


A Very Bad Week

by SlowMercury



Category: Leverage, RED (2010)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Community: no_true_pair, Crossdressing, Favors, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlowMercury/pseuds/SlowMercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d been a bad week, starting from the moment Nate said, “Let’s steal a commuter railroad,” and it hadn’t ended yet, because Victoria Winslow was sitting in Eliot's favorite coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Bad Week

It’d been a bad week, starting from the moment Nate said, “Let’s steal a commuter railroad,” and it hadn’t yet ended, not even after Eliot fought off three moderately well trained but gigantic goons armed only with a traffic cone while Sophie lied earnestly and inventively to half the city’s professional transit workers. Hardison had had to make an unplanned exit out a fourth story window, and hadn’t stopped complaining once since a pigeon had startled him into dropping his new cell phone.

None of that was what was bothering Eliot now. That was all over and done. No, what was bothering Eliot now was much, much worse:

Victoria Winslow was sitting in his favorite coffee shop. 

_Victoria Winslow_ was _sitting_ in his _favorite coffee shop_. 

Somehow, the worst part was that she didn’t even look out of place. Possibly the most effective killing machine ever, and there she was daintily sipping what was undoubtedly tea with the natural grace of a true lady _in his favorite coffee shop_. Words just didn’t convey the horror. 

There was officially no way this week could get any worse.

“Simon, dear boy,” Victoria said with a genteel smile. “Just the man I was looking for.”

No, actually, it could still get worse.

“Won’t you come sit down,” said Victoria. It was not a request. 

Eliot sat.

“Tell me, Simon, how have you been?” Victoria asked warmly, waving to someone off to Eliot’s left. A pretty brunette near Eliot’s age carried over two more cups and, to Eliot’s surprise, sat down with them. The smell of fresh coffee prepared exactly as Eliot liked it wafted upwards as the new woman pushed a cup in front of him.

“Simon, dear, this is Sarah,” Victoria told him. “Sarah, call him Simon. He’s the retrieval expert we told you about.”

“Hi,” Sarah beamed at him, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you.”

If Eliot were a stupider or less experienced man, he might have interpreted the fond glance Victoria bestowed on the younger woman as weakness. As it was, he 1) knew Victoria didn’t have any weaknesses, and 1b) even if she did, Eliot would never dare to try exploiting said hypothetical weaknesses because Victoria’s extremely not-hypothetical strengths would more than make up for them. For 2), Eliot recognized Victoria’s expression from when he looked at his own team, and no matter what kind of initial impression his team gave, they were _not_ a weakness.

“Nice to meet you too, Sarah,” Eliot said. He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and wondered if it was drugged. Victoria was British enough that she wouldn’t ruin a cup of tea without very good reason, but her associate’s accent was American, and anyway this was coffee.

“Don’t be silly, Simon,” Victoria said, obviously reading his mind. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have sniped you in the back and you’d be dead already.” This was true, so Eliot obediently drank his coffee. 

“Is it true you once carried a hostage, a Persian rug and an antique silver set over the Andes Mountains in a handcart?” Sarah asked eagerly.

“Not really,” Eliot growled. It had been a Chinese rug, and they’d been picked up by his employer well before he climbed all the way back down.

“Oh! Too bad,” Sarah said so perkily that Eliot knew she’d seen right through his reflexive denial. Eliot repressed a twitch.

“There, now that we’re all introduced we can get down to business,” Victoria said. Eliot felt a chill. Her next words proved the chill prescient. 

“Simon, I’m calling in the favor you owe me.” 

That was so unfair it was _ridiculous_. “If this is about Berlin, I _do not_ owe you a favor,” Eliot said. Giving him forty seconds to grab a painting before she firebombed the building was not a favor, no matter what anyone said.

Victoria looked at him. It was a very expressive look; it said _I may have spared your life once, young man, but it’s certainly not too late for me to change my mind. Are you_ really _being so vulgar as to welch on your debts?_

“What do you need retrieved?” Eliot asked, resigned.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that; we don’t need anything stolen,” Sarah told him cheerfully. 

“Then do you need someone killed?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but said diplomatically enough, “Victoria doesn’t need any help in that department. And if I ever do, I’ll just ask my boyfriend.”

Eliot knew he was going to regret this just like he regretted this entire week, it was going to be like feeding a straight line to a shark, but, “Then what exactly do you need?”

Victoria smiled. “We need a honey trap, and you’re it.” 

“What,” Eliot said.

“Blackwater International Imports has its headquarters in New York, and we need to get into their offices,” Victoria continued serenely. 

Sarah bounced once in her seat, explaining in a much more excited counterpoint, “Their Chief of Security has a weakness for charming men in dresses.”

“So you’ll be cozening up to her,” Victoria finished.

“ _What,_ ” Eliot said.

“It’s simple. There’s a cocktail party this coming Thursday at the Met, and the Chief will be there. You’re going. You’re going to pick her up, take her home and show her a good time.” Victoria looked him over critically. “We’ll buy you a kilt for the initial meet; perhaps a gray skirt with a blouse in light burgundy or teal will do for the second date.”

Eliot shuddered, and not only at the thought of becoming Victoria Winslow And Friend’s life size dress up doll. “Why can’t you get someone else? What about Ivan?”

He didn’t need to see Sarah’s wide eyes and frantic headshake to know he’d just made a very big mistake. Victoria’s smile took on a distinct frosty tinge. Eliot mentally reviewed all the coffee shop’s exits and started calculating how much time it would take to reach them. 

He almost certainly wouldn’t make it.

“Uh,” Sarah stuttered, waving her hands expansively and, Eliot suspected, deliberately catching Victoria’s eye, “you see, Ivan is, uh, no longer single, and so he really can’t take these kinds of jobs anymore. It was you or Marvin, and, well, it’s certainly not impossible to get Marvin into a dress, but charming is really a bit outside his skill set…”

Apparently, the thought of Marvin – whoever that was – starring in a honey trap was sufficiently distracting that Victoria ceased considering where to stash Eliot’s body. Eliot was not ashamed to admit he was grateful.

“I just meant,” Eliot explained carefully, “that Ivan knows a lot of people, and perhaps he could use his contacts to find someone better at this than I would be. I don’t have any experience at cross-dressing.”

“Hm,” said Victoria, but she seemed mollified.

“Don’t even worry about it, Victoria and I will help you with everything,” Sarah promised encouragingly. “By the time we’re done with you, no one will know you haven’t been wearing dresses your whole life!” 

Yes, that’s what Eliot was afraid of.

On the other hand, Eliot was more afraid of what else Victoria might consider equal payment for a favor. At least this way he wasn’t expected to steal from the innocent or kill anyone. Lately that mattered to Eliot; working with the Leverage crew was definitely making him soft.

Eliot hoped fervently that his team would never hear about any of this, and then sighed in defeat. “All right,” he agreed. “Give me an hour to get my affairs here in order.” 

Nate was not going to be happy that Eliot wasn’t going to available for however long this took; he probably already had the next job lined up. Nate was pushing the team hard these days, which was part of the reason it’d been such a bad week.

“We’ll expect you in front of your apartment for pickup in one hour, then,” Victoria said. Eliot had never told anyone including the IRS where his apartment was, but he knew he’d be getting picked up there anyway.

Since there was no more to be said, Eliot lifted his coffee, nodded politely at the two women and headed out. He headed over to the office first, since it was closer and he might as well explain to Nate in person.

Eliot was late by the time he arrived at the Leverage office; the rest of the team had already assembled, and Hardison was in the middle of briefing them on the newest mark’s profile, a CEO who apparently regarded environmental protection laws more as guidelines than rules.

“Good, you’re here,” Nate greeted him. “Just in time. Sophie’s going to contact the mark at a charity cocktail party at the Met this week, so you and Parker will be backing her up as catering staff.”

Seriously, worst week _ever_.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2012 for the [no_true_pair community](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/no_true_pair/).


End file.
